Chapter 2

Maya’s POV

A week ago.

“Maya. This is for the best. I’m sorry I have to do this.”

He spoke so softly—almost with a pitying edge—that each syllable hovered in the air like a fragile promise. His tone was gentle, as though he feared that any sudden movement of his voice might shatter something delicate and precious. But that precious thing, whatever it had once been, lay in fragments on the table between us.

He cleared his throat and leaned forward, tapping the neat stack of papers laid out before me. “Just sign these,” he said, his words clipped but careful. “So we can end this.”

My throat tightened, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged bird. I watched, helpless, as tears formed in the corners of my eyes. One of them slipped free, tracing a warm path down my cheek before falling onto the top page, smudging the black ink into a grey blur. My palms grew slick, and I pressed them into my lap to stop them from trembling.

“How…?” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. I lifted my head, blinking through a veil of tears. “How could you do this?”

“Maya!” He snatched the papers away from the edge of the table as though they might slide off and be lost forever. He fanned them with quick, precise motions, as if he could somehow air-dry the truth and restore his own comfort. “This is an important document. Don’t stain it.”

“Divorce papers?” I echoed, each word feeling heavy and sharp in my chest. My inhale came short, then caught in my throat.

He exhaled a bored sigh and rolled his green eyes at me. “We’ve only been married for a year. But now you’re… ending our marriage and leaving me?”

“Our marriage ended long before this,” he said flatly, his voice stripped of any softness. “You’re simply too much for me.”

A fresh wave of tears hit my lashes. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “I loved you,” I choked out. Each word felt like a betrayal of my own dignity. “I gave you everything. I did everything you asked. I entrusted you with my share of my family’s money—everything I had. I asked nothing of you but your affection—even when you cheated on me. I forgave you every time. I did everything right for you! And now you say it’s my fault!?”

In that moment, my mind reeled back through the painful years: his betrayal, the late-night confrontations, the hollow apologies. Like a cruel film reel, those memories kept looping in my mind, each replay a hammer pounding my heart raw.

He rubbed his temples with one long finger, as if my tears and tremors were an annoyance he could massage away. His green eyes narrowed, cold and distant. “That’s precisely the point, Maya. You gave me things I couldn’t handle and then expected me to repay you. Your saintly acts, your constant need to please me, your demands on my time—you made me feel guilty every moment. I’m done with that.”

My throat burned, each gulp of air tasting like ash. But I forced the words from my lips. “All I ever wanted was to be your wife. You call that a burden?”

He pushed his chair back and stood, the muscles in his jaw flexing with impatience. “This marriage was a business deal,” he said, voice low and clinical. He placed the papers back on the table with such precision that it felt mechanical. “You were supposed to be my partner, but you were too busy chasing some suburban fantasy. So there’s no reason to continue this arrangement.”

Each of his words felt like a blade pressed against my chest. I clutched at my blouse, as though holding myself together might somehow keep me from collapsing. Tears spilled freely now, streaming down my cheeks and falling onto my lap in warm drops. I had endured so much—his lies, my own frantic efforts to win him over, the constant tension of balancing business lunches and household chores. I had believed that, eventually, he would see me as more than a mere transaction.

But in the end, he never did. He never loved me. My sacrifices, my unwavering devotion—they had meant nothing.

“Fine,” I whispered, my voice as flat as the surface of a still pond. “I accept it.”

It hurt—damn, how it hurt. My breaths came in ragged little gasps, each one a reminder of the life I had built around him and the future that lay shattered at my feet. All those evenings spent poring over cookbooks, the countless business etiquette seminars, the women’s magazines I dissected for tips on marriage—all of it, every scrap of advice, every ounce of effort, had been for this moment: nothing.

“Good,” he said, a faint smile flickering on his lips. It was a cruel, satisfied smile. “Will you sign now?”

I knew I should do it. It was for the best, he’d said. I couldn’t keep chasing him, or I’d lose the one thing I had left—my own dignity. And I had to hold on to whatever remained of the Smith name, since now I was its sole bearer.

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. He let out a relieved breath and slid a pen toward me. “Sign here.”

My hand shook as I reached for it. I tipped my head forward, letting my hair fall around my face so he couldn’t see the tears that had already soaked the papers.

It had been less than a week since my parents’ funeral—and here he was, ending our marriage with clinical detachment.

Ah, Maya. Why did you ever trust such a monster?

My pen hovered above the signature line. I felt the cold metal of my wedding ring against my finger. My resolve wavered—my heart clenched at the thought of simply severing the last tie I had to everything familiar. What would become of me after this? My father was gone, and with his death, the family business had collapsed. The people who once revered the Smith name had no reason to care about a widow with nothing left but empty promises. I could not burden them with my failures.

Admittedly, Adrian was the only family I had left, even if it was only on paper.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached out and touched the sleeve of his jacket. “Adrian… is there another way?” My voice shook so violently that I surprised even myself.

He stiffened at my touch, as though I had subjected him to a rattling ordeal. I slid both my hands into his, desperate, pleading. “You’re all I have left. Please… don’t leave me like this.”

My plea sounded shameful in my own ears, yet it was the raw, painful truth. I had no choice but to beg for mercy.

He yanked his hands away as if I had burned him. “Maya, we’ve been through this. Your family is bankrupt. Your parents took their own lives. You offer no benefit to the Brooks. You shouldn’t carry my name any longer.”

His words stabbed deeper than any blade.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, unbidden and fierce. My voice dropped to a fragile whisper. “I know I can’t be your wife. I accept that… but… can’t we at least remain friends?”

Before our marriage, our families insisted we maintain peace between the Carters and the Brooks. And yes—we had become friends, at least for a while. I know now it was all part of the arrangement, but back then it felt real to me.